


flowers of the soul

by batmoz



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, Genderfluid Gerard, art school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmoz/pseuds/batmoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard is at art school, and he is genderfluid. Painting and smiling commences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flowers of the soul

Gerard is slouched at his messy desk in his cramped apartment, working on a gothic period piece he needs to have done by the end of the week. The piece in and of itself is emotionally draining, with its dark themes and colours. Its inspiration derives from his late grandmother, so overall the piece is extremely depressing, but it will be feel good when it’s over. Taking a little bit of the pain he feels everyday and releasing it into the painting, never to be felt again. It’s tiring him out. He can’t think, or draw, or do anything right now. He frowns.

Defeated, he sits back, and sticks his chewed up marker back in his mouth, and looks down at what he has finished. Glancing at his arms, he sees that they are covered in ink, and when he turns to his right he can see his reflection in the mirror. He’s a mess. His watch says he ahead of schedule, and figures he has enough time to take a few hours off. He makes a quick decision on how to spend the rest of his afternoon. He smiles.

Getting up and dropping the marker on his abandoned drawing, he heads over to his tiny bathroom. Shedding the pair of pajamas he’s worn for the last three days, he turns the shower on and sticks his hand in to feel lukewarm spray he would give just about anything to be 5 degrees hotter. He stops in front of the mirror for a moment, looking over his body. Flat in places he once wished he wasn’t, like his chest, and curvy and padded and curvy in his hips. The two extremes perfectly balance themselves out, and allows for him to achieve his goal on looking and feeling genderfluid. It took him a long time to accept that. When he first started realizing he definitely wasn’t cishet a couple years back, he experienced dysphoria so bad it used to make him have nausea spells that would end in vomiting and tears. Through years of therapy and learning to accept the body he has, he’s at a point where he can actually look at himself in the mirror again. It’s a nice feeling. Today is a good day. He smiles.

Spending more than the usual 5 second showers he has grown used to only having time for, he stands under the spray for a few moments before reaching for his bar of soap. It smells like lemons, and he rubs it all over, in all nooks and crannies rather than the usual quick swipes. It’s the little things that he needs to focus more on, and appreciate them. He watches the suds go down the drain and flexes his toes. They all work. He smiles.

Moving onto his hair, he uses the matching lemon shampoo and conditioner his mom got him for Christmas. It always makes his hair shiny in the way that if looks cool rather than the greasy-shiny way which is also cool but in a different way. He smiles.

Getting out of the shower, he uses a big fluffy towel to dry his ink black hair and then his body, and hangs it over the shower bar to dry. He walks naked, confident, to his bedroom, a pale ghost, and stands in front of his closet to decide what to wear. Looking past the stacks of faded shirts and skinny jeans, to the more feminine side of his closet his eyes rest upon a black dress he hasn’t worn since summer time. Moving some items out of the way, he pulls the dress out and looks at it. It’s simple, thick straps and a neckline that doesn’t require cleavage. It is tight in the waist, but flares out after that and goes to around his knees. He smiles.

Slipping on the dress, he pairs it with some tights covered in daisies. He decides to just brush some foundation on, and keeping things natural rather than something more elaborate. He grabs his black bag with gold buckles as well as his keys before heading out the door. He walks outside, and it’s raining. It’s finally spring and the flowers in the garden at his apartment are blooming. Bright red tulips, white daises, pink roses. The smell is intoxicating. He looks up at the rain. He smiles.

Glad that he was able to get an apartment on campus, he heads over to the studio space he was given. Since he is a third year student, he has a pretty large space, well large compared to what first years get. That was more like a closet. He opens up the window to get some of the air circulating, and moves some boxes out of the way. He only really uses the room for painting, and it’s been ages since he’s had to paint for a project, so he just hasn’t. Today’s inspired him to paint again, and it’s like a breath of fresh air. Walking over to a stack of blank canvases, he finds one that is probably a five by four. Bringing it over to a stand, he places it on the ledge and steps back. The canvas is dripping in golden sunlight from the open window, and he really needs to spend more time here. It’s just so nice. He smiles.

Going over to the cupboard in the corner, he picks out a palette and covers it in bright colours. Lush greens, pinks, reds, and deep blues. Yellows brighter than the sun, oranges, teals, violets and dark browns. He smiles. Opting to forget the brushes, he dips his one finger into the each of the colours and starts covering the canvas in flowers. Daises and roses much like the ones he saw this morning, and unnatural blue tulips. Hydrangeas, mums, and lilies. Daffodils, bleeding hearts, and pansies. They are dancing across the canvas, and growing. Growing, stretching, yearning for the sunlight. Vines crawl from flower to flower, dripping and melting together. It’s a beautiful garden. Lighting a cigarette, he stands back and sees what he's done.

He smiles.


End file.
